Fifty Shades of Earl Grey
by Peachdreamsandperseus
Summary: "It is a well known philosophy amongst the British that a good cup of tea solves everything. There isn't an ailment in existence that cannot be cured, no bad mood that cannot be lifted or heartache not soothed by tea." - Fifty conversations held over tea...
1. Philosophy

_**I don't even know where this came from, but the premise is pretty simple - fifty conversations held over tea. All characters, all ships. Enjoy! :) x**_

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It is a well known philosophy amongst the British that a good cup of tea solves everything. There isn't an ailment in existence that cannot be cured, no bad mood that cannot be lifted or heartache not soothed by tea. This is a lesson that Cora Crawley has been learning the hard way since she came to England and today is no different.

She sits opposite her mother-in-law, not entirely sure what to say - several years into her marriage, three beautiful daughters, and yet she still feels like a stranger in this family. The mantle placed upon her head just a few days earlier – or rather the coronet – instantly feels heavy and burdensome. She isn't ready for this, she wasn't born for this like so many of the women in her social circle and, truth be told, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a Countess.

...But she loves her husband dearly, and such is her duty to rule by his side.

The older woman sets down her cup and regards the younger who stares solemnly into her own.

"What a relief it is to escape from those ghastly people who come to pay their respects and offer their condolences," she says. "I can honestly say that in all the years I was married to James, I must have met less than half of them."

Cora smiles weakly, noticing for the first time just how much older the family matriarch looks in her mourning wear.

"I'm sure they just mean well," she replies, her accent notably softer than when she first came to England.

"Hmph," is the Dowager's curt reply, which makes even Cora smile genuinely. "Well, my dear," she adds. "We have an awful lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it in. Let us make ourselves a countess..."


	2. Emulate

_**I have no idea why I started with Cora, Violet and Carson - I find them so hard to write. Oh well, after this one I move into the much more familiar territory of Sybil, Tom, and the back seat of a Renault. For now though, have some pre-Canon Mary/Carson bonding time - Reviews = love and motivation! Enjoy :) x**_

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Nine year old Mary watches the grown-ups through the window – she sees her mother, grandmother, and a few strange women whose faces she knows but not their names all sitting together and drinking tea. She doesn't know what they're talking about – frightfully dull grown up things no doubt – but they all look so beautiful and elegant and it gives Mary an idea.

She runs upstairs to the nursery and pulls out the miniature tea set she'd been given for her birthday last year.

"What are you doing?" Edith asks, not even looking up from the pages of her book.

"What does it look like?" Mary replies. "We're going to have tea like Mama and Granny and their friends."

"But that's boring," Sybil pipes up, the youngest of the three currently hanging upside down from the daybed under the window. "You aren't a grown up... so you don't have to do grown up things. Come outside and play with me!"

Mary rolls her eyes – Sybil may be a darling, but sometimes she just doesn't understand. Mary is starting to feel like a grown up, but nobody will treat her like one.

"Edith, will you join me?"

"No... shan't."

In a huff, Mary storms out of the nursery and, not for the first time, she wishes she had brothers – they couldn't nearly be as hard work as her sisters are.

**-xxx-**

Carson almost trips over her as he comes down the servant's staircase.

"Lady Mary?" he asks, and she looks up at him with sad eyes. "What on earth are you doing down here."

"Hiding."

"And what may I ask are you hiding from?"

Mary shrugs and lets out a weary sigh. "Nothing, really... but also everything."

"You can talk to me about it if you wish, my lady," the butler replies – it's no secret in this household that he has something of a soft spot for the eldest of Lord and Lady Grantham's daughters.

She nods as she picks at a bit of fluff that clings to her dress. "I want to be like them, Carson, Mama and her friends. They're all so beautiful and glamorous when they sit having tea together while I have to sit upstairs with my sisters... Sybil's a darling but all she wants to do is run around and climb trees, while Edith isn't interested unless it involves books or Cousin Patrick."

Carson smiles fondly. It's already clear that his young mistress will grow up to be a fine woman indeed – headstrong, beautiful, and not afraid to fight to get what she wants. She has the makings of a countess, perhaps even a duchess, and he for one will be proud to say that he was able to share moments such as this with her during her childhood.

"And one day you shall be. As for Lady Sybil and Lady Edith, well they too shall grow up, just as you will, and perhaps they will show more of an interest then."

"Do you really think so, Carson?"

"I do indeed. Now, my lady, while I cannot promise you the same grandeur as Lady Grantham's soirees, I do know that Mrs Patmore has been baking all morning and there might be a little something going spare. Would you care to join me for tea, Lady Mary?"

Mary's eyes light up and she smiles widely at him. "Indeed I would, Mr Carson," she replies.

And, with that, these two unlikely friends make their way downstairs – it's the firsts of many times Mary takes tea with the butler, something which continues even when she is the Countess of Grantham herself.


	3. Dalliance

_**Thank you for the amaxing response to this! I honestly didn't expect it. This chapter is slightly longer, but the Bransons are my babies so it was inevitable really - Reviews = love and motivation! Enjoy :) x**_

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She's somewhat distant – staring blankly at the wall as she stirs her tea. She may look a million miles away but, in reality, she's not gone that far at all. In her thoughts, she's down in the garage and curled up on the back seat of the Renault, cuddling up to her fiancé's chest – _fiancé_! The word still sends a thrill shooting straight through her and makes the butterflies dance in her stomach.

_**-xxx-**  
_

_He nuzzles his nose against her hair, breathing in the smell of her – it's expensive soap and flowers, feminine and delicate – his fingers trace the curve of her spine and she doesn't remember the last time she felt this relaxed._

_ "Don't you go falling asleep on me now," he chides._

_ "I'm not," she mumbles into his shirt. "Besides, it's not my fault you're so comfy."_

_ Tom laughs – Christ, he loves this woman. "Glad to hear it... but we can't stay here forever, love."_

_ She sighs wearily. "I know, but I wish we could..." she looks up at him, her eyes filled with nothing but adoration. "I hate this. I don't like hiding."_

_ "I know," he replies and kisses the top of her head. "But I have a feeling our luck is about to change."_

_ "But how do you..."_

_ "Do you trust me?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "Do you trust me?"_

_ "With my life," she nods._

_ Tom says nothing but leans in to kiss her instead. Their kisses are becoming much more passionate with each passing day – sometimes she finds it difficult to **say **how she feels and it's much easier to **show **him. Moans of pleasure are beginning to get louder, hands beginning wander further and it's no longer a case of **wanting** but rather of **needing**. _

_ "Stop," he manages to choke out – a warning to himself as much as it is to her. "Not here. Not now... not when we've come this far."_

_ "But..." Sybil frowns. "It just seems that everything we want, a life together and the things that come with it... it just seems so far away."_

_ He shakes his head and smiles. "Not as far away as you might think."_

_ "Will you **please** stop talking in riddles!" she says, giving him a sharp poke in the ribs._

_ He shifts a bit and pulls out a piece of paper from his trouser pocket. "Here... I was going to wait until I'd sorted one or two things out but now seems as good a time as any."_

_ With a perplexed look, she unfurls the piece of paper and begins to read – it's not long before she's grinning with pride and excitement._

_ ...perhaps things are going to be alright after all._

_**-xxx-**_

Sybil is rudely torn from her daydream by a swift dig in the thigh from Edith.

"Ow!" she hisses, glaring at her sister.

"Sybil dear," her grandmother addresses her. "Are you with us?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry... I was miles away, what were you saying, Mama?" she asks, turning to her mother.

"Heavens," Violet cuts in before Cora has a chance to repeat herself. "What on earth is going on in that head of yours, child?"

Sybil bites her lip as she adds another lump of sugar to her tea, knowing that the truth would probably give the Dowager Countess a heart attack. "_Well actually, Granny, I was fantasising about what it would be like to make love to the chauffeur in the back of the car._"

No...that would most definitely not be the best idea she's ever had.

**_-xxx-_**

Conversation flows much in the same way as it has all afternoon and it's becoming harder and harder for her to concentrate. After what Tom had shown her earlier, she knows now that their life together – away from all of this – is finally within touching distance.

"No prizes for guessing where your thoughts were earlier," Mary says, filling up their cups as the three sisters find themselves alone at last.

"I could easily have stayed with him before, if that's what you would have preferred," Sybil retorts, a little more harshly than intended.

Her eldest sister raises her eyebrows at her. "Darling, that's not what I meant at all. You know my feelings on this matter, but if you're so set on keeping you dalliance with the chauffeur a secret then you really ought to start being more inconspicuous."

"It is **not **a dalliance and you know full well it isn't!" she retorts.

Edith sighs – she's always been a little more sympathetic towards her sister's plight. "I know we keep asking you, but are you absolutely sure this is what you want? When you told me you'd found a way to escape, you said it was drastic but... **this**? Sybil, this is rebellious even for you."

Sybil honestly feels like she's banging her head against a brick wall – she knows there's a fine line between being headstrong and acting like a petulant child, and it's taking every ounce of her willpower not to start screaming and shouting at them to make her see her point. There's no point in it though, they'll never understand, instead she's going to stick to her guns and structure her point.

"We **will **be married, regardless of what anyone says. I love him, he loves me... the rest is detail."


	4. Change

_**I think this one is much shorter than the last couple, but it's one of my favourites and I just wanted to get straight to the point. It's set the day after the ending of the Christmas Special... so I think you can probably guess what it involves! Enjoy :) x**_

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In a house that has seen so much darkness and despair in recent weeks, a bit of good news is all it takes to lift the sombre mood. However, this isn't just **good** news – this is the best possible kind of news. Thing is though, nobody actually knows about it yet.

It's Edith who notices it first – Mary's mood is brighter than it has been in months, perhaps even years. Truth be told, she's rather taken back when her sister smiles sweetly and asks her how she is this morning with genuine interest. It comes as a shock to the family that this is apparently the same woman who, for as long as they can remember now, has been living under a cloud of misery – there had once been a time when her very presence had been enough to light up a room, when her smile shone brighter than the sun and her laugh rang out clear and beautiful as nightingale song. All that had faded though shortly after **he **had walked into her life. Nobody could deny that Sir Richard and the future Lady Mary Carlisle would have made a wonderful team – a formidable partnership with the power to take society by storm – but as an actual married couple with a home and a family? No... it just didn't seem right somehow. She had started to grow old before her time under his spell – like Odette under Von Rothbart's curse, it was almost as though she had been trapped in a body that wasn't hers. He's gone now though, and change is afoot once more.

...Change which will at last bring some much needed good fortune back into the house of Grantham.

_**-xxx-**_

They aren't doing a very good job of hiding their adoring gazes as they sit across the room from each other. The entire family – with, of course, the notable absence of Sybil – has come together for afternoon tea and, when Mary gives a slight nod of her head in his direction, Matthew knows that there couldn't be a more ideal time for the newly affianced couple to share their delightful news.

"So, Mary," Isobel says, unknowingly setting up the perfect opportunity for them. "How are your plans for America coming along?"

Mary sets her teacup down on the saucer and looks up at her cousin. "Well... I don't think I'm going anymore," she says, trying her best not to let her gaze wander towards Matthew.

"Not going?" Cora exclaims, the news clearly coming as quite a shock. "Why ever not? You seemed to be looking forward to it..."

"Because... well..." she's flustered – Lady Mary Crawley **never** gets flustered. "There's something I need to tell you all..."

"We..." Matthew cuts in. "There's something **we **need to tell you all."

As he crosses the room and offers his hand to help her to her feet, they had all just known what this was about. They had watched with awe as they saw the pair of them smiling genuinely for the first time in so very long. Their fingers twine together and hers give his a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

Matthew takes a deep breath and grins boyishly. He's waited so very long for this moment and has rehearsed this speech over and over in his head – yet, here he stands, flustered and speechless in her very presence, just as he had been when they'd met for the very first time eight years ago (albeit on much better terms)...

Some things, it seems, will **never** change.


	5. Kismet

_**So I was sitting in the doctors before and this baby girl sitting on her mum's lap next to me just wouldn't stop staring at me - as a result, I had this little brainwave. Some sisterly bonding and gratuitous fluff... Enjoy :) x**_

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She's in shock – there's absolutely no other way to describe it. She doesn't hear Sybil thank Molesley as he brings in the tea and she's just about aware of her sister's infant daughter, Saoirse, squirming in her arms. Her body feels numb save for a strange fluttering sensation in her lower abdomen that she's never really noticed before now.

"Mary... Mary, are you alright?"

"Yes... I think I'm just in shock, that's all."

"But you are happy, aren't you?"

Mary nods. "Of course... of course I am. How could I not be?" She looks up at her youngest sister and runs a hand over Saoirse's smattering of blonde hair. "How did **you** feel? When you found out I mean?"

"Scared," Sybil admits. "But when it finally sank in, I think it was the happiest I'd felt in so long. I realised that this was something that **we **had done, something we'd created together and that nobody could ever take away from us."

Mary smiles and knows that her sister is right. There had been a time when both of them had thought this would and could never happen – and to get everything they'd ever wanted so soon into their marriage was something of a blessing to have been afforded this happiness at long last.

"Still, if you're anything like Tom and me, I'm sure this can't come as a complete surprise," Sybil says with a mischievous smirk.

Mary says nothing, merely shoots her sister a knowing look before regaining her composure once more. "Of course not, everyone knows that the stalk brings babies to the aristocrats."

The pair of them erupt into a fit of giggles and, sensing their amusement, Saoirse laughs along with them - her own delight is fuelled by Mary subconsciously tickling her tiny feet. She looks into her niece's eyes – so wide and blue – and for the first time Mary really notices just how much Saoirse looks like her father. "It's just... well I'm not the most maternal woman am I?"

Sybil laughs. "And you think I was?" She twists the claddagh ring on her left hand and stares lovingly at her daughter. "Perhaps not now, but you'll be amazed how quickly all that changes. You'll be an incredible mother, Mary... I'm sure of it."

"You're a darling," Mary smiles, suddenly feeling incredibly emotional. "But how am I going to tell Matthew?"

"You'll find the right moment, and when you do, just tell him... I'm sure he'll be overjoyed."

"Who'll be overjoyed about what?" comes Matthew's voice as he arrives home from work. "Hello darling," he says, leaning in to kiss his wife's cheek. "Sybil," he adds, acknowledging his sister-in-law. Saoirse babbles, desperate for some attention of her own from her beloved Uncle Matthew. "And how could I ever forget you?" he asks, taking her from Mary's arms and kissing the baby's cheek. The sight of her husband completely doting upon his niece melts her heart – the same heart she'd once convinced herself she didn't have – and she just knows deep down inside that he really is going to be the most wonderful father.

Tonight... she'll tell him tonight. She'll wait until after dinner, long after Isobel has retired, and she'll lead him upstairs to their bed where she'll make love to him, thanking him for her happiness and showing him how much she loves him in a way that words cannot even begin to adequately describe. Afterwards, as she lies cuddled up to his chest and his arms are wrapped firmly around her waist, she'll whisper those three little words in his ear – three little words that will change their lives forever. Fate has dealt her a very good hand at long last, and it's time to play her cards...

"Matthew... I'm pregnant."


	6. Questions

_**Once again, thank you all so very much for your amazing response to this. I'm glad you enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them, I'm just sorry I haven't had the time to reply to you all. In this chapter, we see a conversation between Cora and Sybil (with, obviously, hints of Sybil/Tom) - I always think that, while she'd never truly approve of her daughter's marriage in the beginnin, Cora would have understood better than Robert... anyway, this is just a lot of my headcanon jotted down - Enjoy :) x**_

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Cora's eyes flutter open as she hears a gentle knock at the bedroom door and in creeps her youngest daughter – she's still wearing her uniform under her coat and her hair is loose, cascading down her back in those soft curls she's had ever since she was a baby.

"I brought you some tea," Sybil says – the poor dear sounds utterly exhausted. "And I thought I'd come and see how you are."

"I'm feeling much better, darling," Cora smiles. "Just tired."

Her daughter nods. "You just need plenty of rest."

"As do you by the sounds of it."

Sybil smiles weakly. "I'm fine, Mama, really... besides, I'm used to it," she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Cora realises that this will perhaps be one of the last times she manages to get her youngest alone like this. While the storm may have passed for the time being, there are questions that she needs answers to – questions she never really had the chance to ask before the Flu took hold of her.

"You were with him last night, weren't you?" she asks sincerely. "You went to him after..." she can't bring herself to finish that sentence – she had truly liked Lavinia, it was impossible not to really, and she thought it so unfair that such a promising young life should be cruelly snatched away like that.

Sybil taps her fingernails against the china teacup – something she's always done whenever she's nervous or uncomfortable. "Yes," she admits in barely more than a whisper. "Nothing happened, Mama... I assure you he was the perfect gentleman. Honestly, he deserves far more credit than he's been given."

Cora looks straight into her daughter's eyes and sees nothing but the truth reflected in them. Sybil had indeed gone to Tom last night – she'd just needed to get away from the house. It wasn't really in her nature to run away when things got tough, but Lavinia's death had been the straw that broke the camel's back and she'd needed to see the one person who understood her more than anyone on this earth. She hadn't really cared that she was absolutely soaked to the skin, having been caught in the sudden downpour that had washed over the tiny Yorkshire village, and had just flung herself into his embrace the second he had opened the door. Not wanting her to get sick, Tom had gallantly given her a spare pair of his pyjamas to change into. Dry at last, she'd curled up against his chest and sobbed, telling him about everything that had happened until there were no more tears left to cry and she'd finally drifted off to sleep in his arms. Waking up beside him this morning feeling warm, safe, and more loved than she had ever felt in her entire life, it had almost been enough to make her forget the living nightmare that was waiting for her at home. As much as she loves her family, Sybil has never been more certain that this was the right choice – Lavinia hadn't been much older than her, and her fate had been a tragic reminder that life is far too short to sit around wondering 'what if?' – it's only now, as she sits on her mother's bed that she realises just how lucky this household has been.

"Sybil," Cora says after a moment or two of silence. "How long has this been going on?"

Sybil swallows hard – it's an inevitable question really, one she's surprised nobody has actually asked her yet. "Well, that depends really... do you mean how long we've been engaged, how long I've loved him for, or how long it's been since he first proposed?"

"**First** proposed?"

"Do you remember the day I left for York? Well... I didn't accept, nor did I deny him. It went on from there really... I spent years convincing myself that I didn't feel the same way about him, but it was useless. I've loved him for longer than I realised, I just needed a sign to let me know that my decision was the right one."

"And that was when you accepted him?"

Sybil nods. "The night Lavinia and Matthew got engaged again. I saw the look on Mary's face and I just knew that I could never put myself through that. I love him, and I'm never going to let him go... ever."

"You really do love him, don't you?"

"Yes, Mama."

"And you're certain this is what you want?"

"More than anything."

Cora sighs. "Well I can't say I approve of your choice of husband, but a mother wants nothing more than to see her daughters happy. Perhaps you'll understand that yourself one day."

"Oh, Mama," Sybil sighs tearfully, crawling up the bed and falling into her mother's embrace. It's not perfect, but it's a far better reaction to her marriage than she could ever have hoped for. She'd always thought that she would be more understanding and that the real battle still lies with her father.

Cora lovingly pushes a lock of Sybil's hair back behind her ear – she doesn't remember the last time her youngest sat with her like this. It must have been when she was a child, hiding from a storm or an evil done to her by either of her sisters. That little girl is gone now, and in her place is a strong and determined young woman ready to take on the world.

And, deep in her heart, Cora really does think she's going to be alright...


	7. Serenity

_**Thanks again for your incredible feedback on the last few chapters - I honestly wasn't expecting this at all. I'm currently reading 'Birdsong' and was inspired to write a chapter based upon Matthew's thoughts of returning back to England after so long at the front. I'm a little unsure about this chapter, but enjoy nonetheless :) x**_

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It's quiet.

Too quiet.

The peace and tranquillity of the Yorkshire countryside is almost too much to bear – it's a world away from the horrors of battle that lie waiting for him upon his return to France. It doesn't feel right somehow that he should be sitting here with his mother, fiancée and cousins, drinking tea and exchanging idle gossip about wedding plans and the impact of war upon the London season, when right at this very moment there are men from all walks of life scrambling through the mud, risking life and limb for a cause not their own. These men have become his colleagues – some even his friends – and he's fiercely protective over them, just as any good officer should be. As an only child, one or two of them are the closest thing to brothers that he'll ever know. Being here, he worries about them more than he would if he were there fighting beside them – at least then he would know what they were up against, he could place a reassuring hand upon their shoulders (even though he himself would no doubt be shaken to his very core) and they'd tackle it together as a team. Their fate is his fate now – and it kills him that he might just return to find that they have suffered without him.

He hates the serenity of it all – he feels like he's on edge just waiting for something to happen. He stares at his cup, tasting bile as it rises in his throat and remembers the last time he'd taken tea with someone.

_He'd paced up and down the trench with Captain Duncan Mayhew, a man he admired and aspired to be in some respects, speaking with their men in an attempt to lift their spirits on a freezing cold morning in the dead of winter. Two young Corporals had been sent supplies of tea from home and kindly offered to share a cup with their commanding officers. Matthew was grateful for the warmth that it brought to his bones – he'd never known cold like this, cold that seemed to freeze his very blood. He'd smiled thankfully at the two lads but, as he'd turned to Duncan, time itself seemed to slow down – he saw the bullet cut through the air, piercing the bottom of the mug raised the Captain's lips, and felt the blood splattering his face as he'd leapt forward to catch his friend as he fell. Although his face was bloodied and torn beyond all recognition, his bright green eyes still twinkled in the dim evening light, almost smiling in silent thanks to the man who was with him at the end. Not quite knowing what else to do, Matthew had cradled Duncan's head in his lap, holding his hand until he'd slipped away after what felt like an eternity but was, in reality, no more than a couple of seconds. It was a memory that he was certain would haunt him for the rest of his days, no matter how numbered they seemed to be right now..._

The clang of cup upon saucer startles him and drags him back into the present.

"Matthew, are you quite alright?" Lavinia asks with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

He forces a smile, realising that everyone is staring at him. "I'm fine, darling," he replies. "I'm just not used to things being this quiet; it's rather easy to drift off."

Isobel smiles – her darling boy could be thousands of miles away in his head, but all that matters is that he's here in this room, home and safe. "Lavinia says the two of you were thinking about an autumn wedding..."


	8. Children

_**Apologies for the delay - I got a bit stuck with this one and I'm in the middle of trying to sort out stuff for going back to Uni in a few weeks. Ugh, stress. Anyway - let's have a bit of Mary and Edith actually getting along for once. The pair of them have grown up so much since series one and this is just a little insight into that. Enjoy and review (only if you want to like, I'm not going to hunt you down and poke you with a stick if you don't) :) x**_

* * *

The Adelphi Hotel on Ranelagh Street was regarded as the most luxurious hotel outside of London and arguably the jewel in Liverpool's crown. It's a somewhat uneventful day in the summer of 1919 and people come and go as they always do, drifting in and out of this esteemed establishment like the ebb and flow of the River Mersey. On this particular afternoon, the tide brings in the two eldest daughters of the Earl and Countess of Grantham fresh off the boat from Dublin.

The mood had been somewhat melancholy between the pair of them on the journey over from Ireland – the overwhelming emotion of the last few days and the tearful farewells had finally caught up with them at last. They barely said two words to one another on the voyage but not, as one might think, because of their infamously hostile relationship. They've grown up so much these past few years. In the cruellest ways imaginable, they've learnt that life is far too short for their immature games of one-upmanship. It was as they'd watched their darling baby sister take flight on loves light wings and left the nest for a new life in a distant land across the sea and Mary's arm had somehow linked with Edith's as they'd walked in silence back towards the car that things had really begun to change – it had been an understanding of sorts, both of them knowing that it was time to move on and put the past behind them at long last.

As the middle sister, Edith is quiet and reserved. While she may lack Mary's confidence and Sybil's uncanny ability to light up a room, she is incredibly observant. It seems that the years of playing the wilting wallflower and seeking refuge in the corners of many a society ballroom have actually been good for something. She's a very good people watcher – she sees the things that would probably go unnoticed by most others. Today is no different as she sits opposite her sister, watching her stare blankly into the half empty teacup and twist her engagement ring round and round her finger as she completely loses herself in her own thoughts.

"Mary?"

"Mmm?"

Edith shifts in her chair and sighs. "I... I know Sybil would be the one you'd usually confide in but I just want you to know that... well... despite everything, you can talk to me if you need to."

Mary furrows her brow at her sister's sudden proposal but, despite being completely bemused as to where it has come from, she finds herself strangely grateful for it. "Thank you for the offer, but I assure you I'm perfectly fine."

Edith has to physically bite her tongue to stop her retort – anyone with eyes can see that Mary isn't herself these days – but her sister is tired and, having been on the receiving end of the wrath of Lady Mary far too many times to count, she knows better than anyone not to provoke her when she's been deprived of her sleep.

"I really am sorry," Edith mutters after a moment or too, so quietly that it almost goes unnoticed.

"For what?"

"Everything."

Mary looks into her sister's eyes and sees complete sincerity. Suddenly, it all hits her like a ton of bricks – they were nothing but children back then. They were silly naive little girls with no knowledge of the world outside theirs of fine titles and glittering jewels, silly little girls with nothing better to do than to see how far one could push the other before they snapped.

"What's done is done," Mary replies and, as she smiles back at Edith, the pair of them know that this is as close to a truce as they are ever going to get. Neither will ever truly say to the other what is in their heart, nor will they ever be as affectionate as they are towards their youngest sister...

...But everyone has to start somewhere.


	9. Peace

_**A short dose of Matthew!Angst to get you through the day. This might just be my weakest chapter yet, but I'm fascinated by his inner turmoil during the time he was wounded - the poor darling can't have had it easy at all. Anyway, more soon and I'm sorry this one is so short. Enjoy :) x**_

* * *

The end has come at last.

It's too late for many and for those who survived to see this day both the mental and physical scars will live with them for all eternity. The wounded don't speak of it when they return home, nor does it seem that they ever will do. Nothing need be spoken between those who fought for king and country, regardless of whether they knew each other or not – a single look conveys so much more than any words ever could. They thank and reassure one another, telling each other that "_everything is alright now. I have seen what you have seen, my blood stains the soil as does yours, together we fought and together we survived... thank you, my brother_."

On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, it is all **finally **over. A sombre cloud hangs over Downton as the inhabitants of the house – family, servants, and convalescents alike – take time to remember their fallen friends, colleagues, and loved ones, to reflect on all that has come to pass and to ponder what the future holds for them in what will be a very different world from this moment on. This contemplative silence continues as the Crawleys take tea together later that afternoon, only for it to be broken as the Dowager Countess throws her two penneth in.

"Well, at least now things can begin to get back to normal."

Matthew clenches his fist – any tighter and he fears that the fragile china cup will shatter much like the hopes and dreams he had for his future. Nothing will ever be normal again – how can it be after everything that has happened these past few years? "_How can anything ever be normal again after **this**?_" he thinks to himself, staring at his now useless feet. Yes he may have felt something but, then again, he could very well have been imagining it all. He knows he should probably say something to someone, but to do so – or even to admit the truth to himself – would be absolutely soul crushing should it turn out to be a false hope, and he really doesn't think that he could bear to inflict yet more pain on those he loves. He can't say anything yet – not until he's sure.

The world may be at peace, but Matthew Crawley is not...

...At least not yet.


End file.
